Step Ball Change
by cruiscin lan
Summary: Rachel, Puck, Finn, and Quinn try to sort out their relationships with one another, while Brittany tries to make new friends in glee club. Features the Rachel/Puck/Finn/Quinn love quadrangle, as well as Brittany and all the other gleeks.
1. Chapter 1

Puck had never slept with anyone before. Sex, yes - that was something he'd had lots of experience with - but never the canoodling afterwards. When he was with girls his age, they'd kick him out before their parents were home; when he was with cougars, it was the same thing, but with their husbands. And so he'd never watched the rise and fall of a woman's chest grow slower and slower as she drifted into sleep. He'd never draped his arm around someone and held her close all through the night. And he'd definitely never woken up beside her the next morning.

And even though she woke up disgusted and angry with herself, Puck still thought it was kind of nice.

He was Quinn's first, and in a way she was his, too.

****

Finn's sleeping problems had started at the beginning of the school year.

Part of it was due to the stress of classes and football and, soon enough, glee club, but mostly the insomnia had to do with... girls.

It wasn't that he didn't like Quinn - he did. She was hot, and popular, and really smart, too. She even let him copy her homework sometimes. But she was always on his case about something or other, and she wouldn't even let him touch her boobs.

And then there was Rachel. Rachel - who could sing like crazy, Rachel who tried to solve more problems than she created, Rachel who so obviously liked him - and better yet, she seemed okay with sex, too.

So some nights Finn found himself lying in bed, holding onto a mental image of them both in his head, as though her were trying to compose a compare/contrast chart of the two.

_Rachel is a really pretty name,_ he'd think. _But hey, Quinn rhymes with Finn._ It would be about that point when he'd finally fall asleep.

****

Joining glee club hadn't been Brittany's idea. She was always the one to simply tag along with what others told her to do, and when Quinn got it into her head that she needed to join in order to save her boyfriend from Rachel Berry, Brittany had followed suit. It was fortunate that Sue Sylvester thought to use them as her spies; if Brittany had been kicked off Cheerios for insubordination, she wouldn't have known _what_ to do. Anyway, while it had been fun learning some dance steps and performing for Mr. Schuester, aside from that Brittany felt awkward and out of place in the music room.

If she were truly honest with herself, though, Brittany had always felt out of place, even among the Cheerios. She knew she was dumb, and easily influenced, and she didn't know how to fix that. She had the looks, she had the body - but she didn't have the confidence to be herself. She didn't even know who that person was.

And so it was another uncomfortable afternoon at glee practice when the gay kid and the stuttering Asian approached her.

"Listen - Brittany, is it?" he asked, running his fingers through his perfectly coiffed hair. "I don't think we've been properly introduced."

"I don't know your name," Brittany admitted. She sat up a little straighter in her chair, uneasy.

"I'm Kurt. And this is Tina," he said, putting his hand on Tina's shoulder. Tina looked like a rabbit, smiling nervously as her eyes darted from side to side. It was like she was looking for an escape route. "I'd like to invite you to an exclusive engagement this weekend. Tina and I are going to film our own 'Single Ladies' music video, and we'd like you to be a part of it."

"Why me?" Brittany asked.

"B-b-b-because we already asked Mercedes, a-a-a-and she wouldn't do it unless she g-g-got to be Beyonce," Tina told her.

"There are some things I simply cannot compromise on," Kurt added. "Besides that, Rachel hogs the spotlight and the other Cheerios scare us a little."

That reassured Brittany. She was a little scared, too. Besides that, the dancing was her favorite part of glee club so far, and she really liked Beyonce. It felt nice, too, to be _asked_ for once, instead of simply being told what to do.

"Okay," she said. "I'm in."

****

In English class earlier that day they'd started reading _The Old Man and the Sea_, but they started by going over some info about Ernest Hemingway. One of the things the teacher brought up was his famous six-word short story: "For sale: baby shoes. Never worn."

Puck didn't get how _that_ could be a story. It was only six words. About baby shoes. How lame.

And then after football practice he heard another six words that completely changed his world.

"Quinn's pregnant. She's keeping the baby," Finn told him, and then walked away, leaving Puck stunned and confused.

****

Romance did not come readily to Rachel Berry, and yet somehow early into her sophomore year the number of boys she kissed had accelerated from zero to two. But kissing was just kissing - apparently it wasn't the blossoming of a beautiful relationship, as she'd always hoped. Still, if there was anything that she'd learned about love in Broadway showtunes, it was that it came in seasons. Or that love makes the world go round. Or that they say it's wonderful. Something like that.

At any rate, her short dalliances and her commitment to glee club had been seriously cutting into her Myspace schedule, and it was about time she got back on track. She was missing several _weeks_ of videos, and now, alone on a Saturday night, she could finally spend some time catching up. She had queued up the karaoke tracks on her computer, and was vigilantly searching for songs she hadn't recorded yet.

As she looked, though, she couldn't get this whole Finn and Quinn and Puck mess out of her mind; perhaps her thoughts bled a little bit into some of her final selections. She made a new playlist, including:

Paul Simon: "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover."

Foreigner: "I Want to Know What Love Is."

Ella Fitzgerald: "What is This Thing Called Love?"

But when she sang them, she wasn't happy with the way the recording turned out. Too sharp, too flat, too... preoccupied, perhaps. Sighing, she put her camera away.

****

Finn was already stressed out enough. With Quinn yelling at him about ice cream, and Rachel being so nice that it was hard to stop thinking about her, he barely had room in his head to think about football plays and dance steps. It didn't help matters any when he returned to his locker between classes and found Jacob Ben Israel lingering nearby. Finn still hadn't forgotten that Jacob was the one responsible for breaking the news about Quinn's pregnancy on his blog, _and_ that he'd blackmailed Rachel out of her underpants. He tried not to listen, but Jacob's voice was like a deflating balloon - whiny, high-pitched, and demanding attention.

"Most of the comments on my blog are crying out for details," Jacob said. "Details of your and Quinn's scandalous sex life. Care to share?"

"You have five seconds to get out of my face before I smash yours," Finn said as he shut his locker. "Five, three... four..."

Jacob stepped back, flinching, but continued to goad Finn, still hoping for a story. "Fine by me. I was planning to take some creative liberties with it anyway. Gotta give the readers what they want, you know."

"You're sick, you know that, right?" Finn growled, stooping to glare directly in Jacob's eyes. Unfortunately, he was just dumb and angry enough to play right into Jacob's hand. "You want to make up stories, or you want the _truth_? 'Cause the truth is that Quinn and I _never_ had sex. It was an accident in a hot tub, and..."

"Girls can't get pregnant from hot tubs," Jacob interrupted. He was confused for a moment, trying to figure out whether Finn was pulling his leg.

"...and then... wait, what?" Finn asked. "They can't?"

"It's an urban legend," Jacob replied. "Biologically impossible."

"But they're the perfect temperature... for helping sperm swim faster..." Finn started, trying to remember it exactly as Quinn had explained.

"It's been debunked by various sources. Check Wikipedia." As he spoke, the corners of Jacob's lips turned up a wickedly gleeful smile, the perfect expression of schadenfreude. Finn _really_ had believed the hot tub story. "So, just to verify, you would stand by your earlier statement that you _never_ had sex with Quinn Fabray?"

That wasn't the real question. The real question Jacob was asking was _who_ Quinn _had_ slept with.

But the _who_ didn't matter as much to Finn as the _had_.


	2. Chapter 2

"Has anyone seen Finn today?" Mr. Schue asked. "I was hoping we could go over 'Don't Stop Believin'.'"

"He wasn't in last period," Mercedes said.

"Or the one before last," Artie added. "Maybe he went home sick."

"All right, then," Mr. Schue said, undaunted. "We can go over it anyway. Puck, let's go over Finn's part real quick and you can fill in for him. Everyone else, just go over your parts and we'll come together in five."

Brittany wasn't concerned with going back over her part; she was more excited about the upcoming weekend. Since Santana had taken over Quinn's duties as head Cheerio, and with Quinn occupied with her own problems, Brittany felt more and more like she was being left out of the social loop. Lucky for her, she had her new friends in glee club to fall back on.

While Mr. Schue tried to help Puck finagle a step-ball-change, Brittany leaned forward in her seat and whispered to Kurt. "Hey, want to make another music video for Youtube this weekend?" she asked. "I was thinking maybe do a Cher song?"

"Listen, Britt, as tempting as that sounds, I already have plans this weekend," Kurt told her. "There's a Project Runway marathon, and I have to make sure that Christian Siriano still wins."

Unfazed, Brittany turned to Tina instead. "What about you, Tina? Wanna, like, bust a move or something?" she asked, using her best Mr. Schue impression.

"I c-c-c-can't," Tina replied. "Huge h-h-history project due Monday."

Strike two; Brittany sank back into her seat, frowning. She began playing with the hem of her cheerleading skirt as she glanced idly around the room. Mike Chang smirked at her and raised his eyebrows, but Brittany was tired of going out with him. They never did anything really fun. He just liked to make out and touch her boobs. Sighing, Brittany wondered how long she could avoid his lustful looks in her direction.

Then the door creaked open, and everyone was suddenly _very_ distracted.

Finn stood there, his eyes wet with tears and his face blotchy and red. The room went quiet as he wiped his nose with his sleeve. "Q-Quinn," he stammered, "can I talk to you... outside... for a minute?"

Quinn froze, her eyes wide and frightened. "We're right in the middle of practice," she said.

"It's important. You won't mind, will you, Mr. Schuester?"

Rachel traced the hurt, angry gaze from Finn to Quinn, and Quinn's sorry, stupefied look back to Finn, and the gears in her mind slowly started to turn.

"I... uh, no, not at all. Go ahead, Quinn. Take all the time you need."

But Quinn hesitated. She shifted her balance from one foot to the other, watching her feet as though they were waffling on their own accord. The mounting tension was so uncomfortable as to be almost unbearable.

"I'll go with you," Puck suddenly offered. When Quinn looked up, glaring, her eyes glistened.

The gleeks in general weren't known for their astuteness, but Rachel had all she needed to figure it out. She leapt out of her seat and took Finn by the hand, leading him back to the hallway and shutting the door behind them.

"It's not my baby, Rachel," Finn told her. He was shaking and nervously running his hands along his arms. "It's not my baby."

For once, Rachel was at a loss for words. Instead she stood on her tiptoes and threw her arms around Finn's neck, squeezing him close with all her strength.

****

When Finn and Rachel failed to reappear, Mr. Schue decided to call it a day and excused the kids from practice. Kurt and Mercedes nearly ran to the door, hoping to eavesdrop on whatever hushed conversation they imagined to be happening outside. They were disappointed to find that Finn and Rachel had vanished.

Slowly the other students trickled out. Quinn, however, found a chair and sank down into it, holding her head in her hands. Mr. Schue stopped shuffling sheets of music and walked over to her, gently setting a hand on her shoulder.

"Is everything okay, Quinn?"

"Is _anything_ okay?" Quinn shot back, forgetting for a moment who was talking to her.

Mr. Schue stepped back. He caught enough flak from his pregnant wife at home; he didn't need to get any from his pregnant student. He put his hands up in a gesture of surrender, but made sure to say "Just remember, I'm here to listen if there's anything you need to talk about" as he walked away.

"I need to _not_ talk about it," Quinn muttered.

Puck hovered by the door, left ajar by the departure of the other students. As Mr. Schue made his way out, Puck turned towards him. "I'll make sure she gets home okay."

"That's real nice of you, Puck," Mr. Schue smiled, patting Puck gently on the shoulder. "Drive safe, okay?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Schue. Buenos nachos."

****

Rachel was savvy enough by now to put first things first, and the number one item on the agenda was damage control.

That meant tracking down her number one enemy and her number one admirer - Jacob Ben Israel.

"Wait for me by your locker," she'd told Finn, and he nodded dumbly in reply.

She found Jacob in the library on one of the school's computers, no doubt typing up something tawdry. He was so occupied that he missed the rare Rachel Berry storm-in (as opposed to a storm-out). She loomed behind him, trying to appear as threatening as possible. "Don't you dare run that story."

Jacob jumped; first he clicked out of whatever window he had open and then he turned to face Rachel. "I don't know what you mean," he said, his voice wavering. "And you didn't see that, right?"

She ignored his question; she needed to stay on task. "You know _exactly_ what I mean. You tricked Finn, and you don't even have the whole story. You can't post it. It would be unethical journalism."

Jacob's eyebrows peaked. "Ethical journalism doesn't mean much to _me_. What's it worth to _you_?"

"What's _your face_ worth to you?"

Finn had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and grabbed Jacob by the collar, pulling him up to his feet. His other hand was balled into a fist, and he held it ready just above his shoulder. Rachel jumped back and covered her eyes while Jacob hesitated. "Uhh.... frankly, not much..." he whined, not immediately realizing that Finn was issuing a threat and not questioning his looks.

Finn shook Jacob before releasing him. "Well, if you like breathing through your nostrils, you're going to keep your mouth shut. If I see Quinn's or Rachel's or my name appear on your blog _ever_ again, I'm going to knock your nose into next week."

"And _I'll_ tell the principal that you're using the school computers to post your blog," Rachel added.

"Fine." Jacob shivered and straightened his shirt. "I'll kill the story."

Finn inhaled deeply through his nose, still trembling with rage. Satisfied, he took Rachel by the hand and led her out of the classroom.

Rachel was touched - firstly that Finn had followed her in the first place, and secondly that he'd risen to her defence. She was blushing. "That was a good comeback, Finn."

"Yeah?" Finn asked. His anger was subsiding now, and his voice was finally starting to steady itself once again. "It was something I heard Puck say once. Actually, I think he was talking to Kurt at the time."

"Well, at any rate - thank you," Rachel said, sincere.

"Anytime," Finn offered. He stopped short in the hallway, looking down and realizing that he was still holding her hand tightly in his. "Listen, Rachel, you can't let him talk to you like that. And I appreciate what you're trying to do, really, but you don't have to do anything."

"I know I don't _have_ to," Rachel replied. "But I want to. To help out a teammate."

Finn sighed and smiled and released her hand, knowing that when Rachel said _teammate_ she'd really meant _friend_.

****

Puck lingered in silence while Quinn attempted to collect herself. When she finally looked up, she seemed surprised to see him waiting for her, but that surprise quickly gave way to an expression of resentment.

"Need a lift?" Puck asked, trying to break the quiet.

"I drove myself here," Quinn replied weakly.

"I'll walk you to your car," Puck suggested. He told Mr. Schue that he'd make sure she got home okay, and he meant it, even if he had to follow her all the way to her front door.

She didn't say anything in return, but she gathered up her things anyway. She slung her book-bag across her shoulder, carrying her sheet music in the other, and sulked to the door. Like a gentleman, Puck opened it for her.

The hallway was empty; Puck decided it was safe to talk. "Think he knows?"

"Of course he knows, dummy," Quinn said, exasperated. "Did you _see_ his face? Did you _see_ how upset he was?" She stopped short, pausing in the hall so that Puck was forced to stop and turn to face her. "Did you tell him?" she asked. It was a pointed question, and the words sent a stabbing sensation through Puck's chest.

"No way," he told her, trying to maintain his cool. And there was no better way to appear nonchalant than to make a snarky remark right back. "How much do you think he knows? Enough to get us _both_ killed, or just you?"

With that remark, Quinn had reached her limit. It was like when Sue Sylvester had called her out in front of the glee club all over again. Her jaw hung slack for a moment, as though she was struggling for breath. She shut her eyes, hung her head, and brought her hand to her face as she started to cry. It wasn't just a case of the sniffles, either - her face was screwed up as though she were in pain, and she sobbed so hard that it racked her whole body.

Puck had never felt so awful. "I'm sorry," Puck whispered, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. He lay her head on his shoulder; she didn't fight it, and only continued to weep. "I was just trying to be funny. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."


	3. Chapter 3

He ended up giving her a ride home. It was quiet and uncomfortable, and she could only think of one thing to say when he pulled up in front of her house.

"I'm sorry, Finn - I'm so, so sorry," Rachel repeated. She was like a record looping endlessly, and her apologies became the chorus she always returned to.

Finn turned to her, his brow furrowed. "What are you even sorry for? You don't have anything to be sorry about."

Rachel sighed and let her head hang down. "I don't know. It just seems like the right thing to say. Is it helping at all?" she asked hopefully.

"Maybe a little," Finn said. A small smile appeared on his face; it wasn't much, and it disappeared quickly. "But Quinn's the one who should be sorry. She _cheated_ on me."

Rachel set her hand on Finn's shoulder. "You cheated on her, too, you know."

"We just... we just kissed, was all."

"Kissing is still cheating." _And if only those cosmos weren't virgin_, Rachel thought, but she bit her lip to keep from continuing.

"But she told me the baby was mine."

"I know," Rachel offered. "And you're definitely right to be angry about that. All I'm saying is - well, none of us are perfect. And you shouldn't stay angry for too long. The stress is not good for your voice."

What Finn needed, Rachel decided, was a solution, and she was going to help him find it.

****

Quinn's solution was to ignore everything as long as possible, to pretend there was nothing wrong.

Too bad that hadn't worked out really well with Sue Sylvester and the Cheerios. It certainly wasn't working out with Finn. And it made Spanish class really weird for Brittany.

At the beginning of the period, Finn leaned back, stretching, and a small folded piece of paper suddenly landed between Quinn and Brittany. Quinn steadfastly ignored it, so Brittany took it and opened it. She didn't past "Dear Quinn" before she turned to her deskmate. "It's for you," she whispered to Quinn, sliding it along the tabletop.

Quinn huffed and continued to stare straight ahead.

Stymied, Brittany re-folded the note and wrote "return to sender" in large, loopy letters on the front. She reached forward and tapped Finn on the shoulder, and when he turned she pressed the note into his hands. Finn glanced down at it, and glared at Quinn, who was still willfully ignoring the whole situation.

While Mr. Schue went on about second-person singular, Finn decided to try a different tack to get Quinn's attention. "Brittany," he whispered. "Do me a favor and tell Quinn she's a liar and a cheater."

Brittany's eyebrows went up, but she did as she was told. "Quinn, Finn said to tell you that you're a liar and a cheater."

"I'm not deaf, Brittany," Quinn icily replied.

Finn tried again. "Brittany, tell Quinn she's a horrible person."

"I don't think I want to do that," Brittany said.

"Tell Quinn that the least she could do is talk to me."

"I think she can hear you."

"Brittany," Quinn interjected, "don't listen to him. Ignore him."

"Brittany, tell Quinn she's a bitch."

"Tell Finn he's being an ass and should let you pay attention to class."

Brittany's hand shot up, and both Finn and Quinn were silenced for a moment.

"Yes, Brittany?" Mr. Schue asked.

"I think I'd like to change my seat," she told him.

****

With Quinn giving Finn the cold shoulder, Rachel decided to take matters into her own hands and planned to confront Puck in the hall outside of the music room before glee practice. He had his guitar slung across his back and his hands shoved into his pockets, and when he saw Rachel he tried pretending that he didn't see her, but as he'd learned from their brief relationship, she was... pushy, to say the least.

"Noah," she called out, and he rolled his eyes at being called by his name. "We need to talk. This whole Finn and Quinn situation is out of hand."

"Yeah, and what does that have to do with me?" Puck shot back.

"Just because _he_ doesn't know yet doesn't mean that _I_ haven't figured it out, Puck," Rachel hissed. "How could you do that? He's your _best_ friend."

Puck stopped, leaning against the cool tiles of the hallway wall. As though he didn't feel awful enough about the whole situation, here was Rachel Berry of all people rubbing salt in the wound.

"No wonder you always made eyes at her. I bet when you were making out with me you were imagining that you were with her."

That wasn't true, but Puck figured it was better to let Rachel believe that. "Like you weren't doing the same thing with Finn," he retorted. "You know what, Rachel, I don't need a lecture from you. In fact, I think you owe me a thank-you. Now Finn's all yours."

"He's _heartbroken_, Puck. He's lost a girlfriend and a baby all at once. This isn't funny."

"It _is_ funny, though," Puck said, growling. "It's funny how none of this is any of your business."

Rachel returned his hostile stare without flinching. She was determined to convince him, no matter what it took. "Listen, Puck - you want to fix things between you and Quinn, right?"

Puck was silent. Rachel took it as an affirmation.

"Then you need to sort things out with Finn first. You'll never get to be with her unless you straighten this whole mess out."

Puck's eyebrows knitted; he was lost in thought for a moment. He thought about how weird Rachel was - too aware, too knowledgeable, too perceptive for a sophomore. He wondered briefly what would have happened between them if he'd spent less time slushy-ing her and more time getting to know her, because with Rachel there was a lot going on that he couldn't understand. She was too much for him to handle; the easiest thing to do would be to concede. "Fine," he said. "Tell Mr. Schue I'm going to be late." With that, he did an about-face and stalked off in the opposite direction.

Satisfied, Rachel inhaled deeply. Now it was time for her to execute part two of her plan, and for that, she needed to find Quinn.

****

"Hey, bro, can I talk to you for a sec?" Puck asked. He'd found Finn lingering at his locker, as though he couldn't decide whether to go to glee practice or not. Finn's indecision gave Puck the perfect opportunity to talk to him without the other gleeks coming down on him the way Rachel had. There was no turning back now. "It's about Quinn."

"Quinn and I aren't really talking right now," Finn replied. He struggled to sound matter-of-fact but the breaks in his voice betrayed him.

"I know," Puck said. "And it's my fault."

Finn shut his locker; the metallic echo punctuated the silence of the empty hallway. "It's your fault that Quinn slept with someone else and got knocked up and then lied to me for weeks about it?" he asked, the words tumbling out faster than he meant them to.

Puck shoved his hands into his pockets. He steeled himself for what was going to happen next. "Well... yeah. What you said."

For a moment Finn's expression was as blank as it always was, but as he began to process Puck's words, realization crept slowly across his face. "You did... you're the... you and Quinn?" he stammered. With Finn being Finn, however, his realization was accompanied by some serious confusion. "But she hated you."

"She still kind of does," Puck admitted, but his thoughts were racing. _Why doesn't he just hit me already?_

"And she... _had sex_ with you?"

"We had some wine coolers together when you were staying late for extra practice. She... _we_ weren't making good decisions just then."

Finn sighed. He was near tears again, but he managed to hold back on crying outright. "Congratulations, then, I guess," he said, his voice strangely devoid of emotion. "Mazel tov or whatever."

"Look, dude," Puck yelled, "just hit me. Come on. I won't even fight back; I deserve it."

But by now Finn simply didn't have the energy. He was too heartsick to raise a hand to Puck just then. Instead, he used a far more powerful weapon. "You know she's giving it up?" he said. It was more a statement than a question, and having said that Finn slung his backpack over one shoulder and walked away.

Puck had been, once again, stunned into silence.

Damn it.

Six words strike again.

****

She didn't go to glee that day. Instead, he found her at her locker, picking at the "Celebrating Celibacy" poster with her thumbnail. She was starting to show now, confirming the rumors that had been circulating through the McKinley High halls for weeks, so the poster couldn't come down a moment too soon.

He came up behind her, punching the locker beside hers to catch her attention. She startled and glanced at him, then rolled her eyes and returned to her task.

"When were you going to tell me? Were you _planning_ on telling me?"

Quinn looked sullenly over her shoulder. "You know, I haven't been great at telling a lot of people a lot of things lately," she replied, "so you're going to have to be more specific."

"You're giving it up," he told her. "You're giving _our baby_ up."

Quinn paused. "What do you want me to do, Puck?" She turned around to face him, anger in her eyes and embarrassment flush on her cheeks. "Marry you and raise a baby and forget about college and everything else?"

"Well... yeah, kinda," Puck replied. He hadn't thought as far as marriage, but he wanted to _be_ with her. "Listen, I know I'm not Finn, but I can be better than that. I _want_ to be a dad. We could be a family. And that doesn't mean you have to give up school. I could get a job and take care of the kid, and you could study and stuff."

"That's all... that's all very sweet, Puck." She put her hand on his shoulder, idly running her fingers over his shirt collar. He watched her pinch the fabric between her thumb and her forefinger, her perfectly manicured nails shining as they caught the fluorescent light. He was glad for the distraction; he was afraid to look her in the eye as she spoke to him. "I know you're trying and everything. I never should have called you a Lima loser, because you're not. But the thing is - I like my life the way it is, or the way it _was_, at least. If I keep the baby, then I can't go back to that. And I already have a family ready to adopt."

"Tell them you changed your mind," Puck suggested, still unable to lift his gaze to meet hers. His voice was wavering, and he had to clear his throat to continue. "Tell them you need more time to think about it."

"I _don't_," she said. "I can't." She shut her locker door and pressed her forehead against it; it was cool and relieving and helped her keep her balance while she was knocking Puck off his. "You're off the hook, Puck. You should be relieved."

Puck sucked in his breath; looking past Quinn, he could see Rachel Berry coming towards them. "This conversation isn't over," he said, and he punched the locker again for emphasis. "I'm outta here." He quickly made his exit before Rachel could catch up to the two of them.

"You missed glee practice again today," Rachel remarked as she approached. Quinn found the brightness in her voice today extra irritating, and only glared in reply.

"Listen, Quinn," Rachel said. "We need to talk."


	4. Chapter 4

Sue Sylvester's office was full of shiny things. Trophies, plaques, a flat-screen TV mounted in the corner - it was mesmerizing, really. Whenever she was in there, Brittany's eyes flashed from one thing to the next like a magpie's. Without the distractions, of course, she'd have to start listening to Coach Sylvester's tirades against Will Schuester, glee, and the state of the union, and Brittany just didn't have the attention span for all of that.

It was still a privilege for Brittany to even _be_ there. Most of the time when students ended up in that office, it was because they were about to be ripped to pieces. Even the hallowed Cheerios uniform didn't provide protection from Sue's wrath, as Quinn Fabray could attest to. In fact, up until Quinn's unceremonious dismissal from the squad, Brittany had simply been the red shirt in the espionage enterprise; now that Sue had lost her primary mole, she was relying on both Santana and Brittany to pick up the slack.

And Brittany was clearly in over her head.

Sue had spent a good half-hour picking Santana's brain about the weaknesses in the glee club when she finally turned to Brittany. "What about you, blondie? Anything you'd like to add?"

Brittany stared blankly back. She hadn't been listening since, well, ever, and she couldn't even be sure that Sue was talking to her. For all Brittany knew, Sue could have been talking to herself.

"What about that wheelchair kid?" Sue pressed on.

"What wheelchair kid?" Brittany asked, knitting her eyebrows in confusion.

Sue leaned forward. She held her sunglasses in her hand, the end of the temple arm dangling delicately between her lips. She spoke slowly for the sake of both clarification and condemnation. "The kid. In the wheelchair. Who's in _glee club_."

Brittany's eyes widened. "There's a kid in a wheelchair in glee club?" she asked, genuinely surprised. "Who is it?"

"It is a marvel, Brittany, that after generations and generations of evolution, your parents still managed to meet in the shallow end of the gene pool."

Brittany tried her best to process Sue's remark. "I think Mom and Dad met at an Olive Garden."

Sue looked at Brittany with a look of piteous disdain before it was time to lay down the plan. "Okay, here's what I want you to do. Santana, I want you to go after the Hummel figurine and his soul sister. See what seeds of discontent you can sow there. Brittany, you get wheelchair kid and his geisha."

Brittany started to ask what a geisha was, but a quick elbow jab from Santana shut her up.

"If anyone asks questions, you just remind them that I am still the co-chair of the club. All right, girls. Get out. I have to work on my audition tape for _The Amazing Race_. They rejected me last season because I didn't have a partner. Fortunately I got a friend of mine to join me this time; she had to resign from her job as governor of Alaska, but I told her it would be worth it. I think together we have a real shot at winning it."

Santana and Brittany exchanged a look that encompassed both admiration and fear before they rose from their seats and skedaddled the hell out of there, leaving Sue alone with her delusions of grandeur.

****

The skills one builds as a cheerleader sometimes come in handy. For example, when Rachel came up to her in the hall, Quinn perfectly executed a quick about-face and double-timed it the hell out of there.

"Quinn, I just want to _talk_ to you," Rachel called out after her, her tone accusatory. "Wait up," she added, when she realized that Quinn wasn't about to stop.

Quinn upped her pace and went all the way down the hall, around the corner, past the main office and out the front door to the parking lot. But Rachel kept close at her heels like an annoying little dog that won't stop yapping.

"How could you do that to him, Quinn?" she asked, and even though Quinn strove to keep her steely facade, Rachel's words were needling her. Frustrated, she turned around so quickly that Rachel knocked into her, startled.

Quinn was unperturbed. "Listen, butterface, I don't have to answer to you about _anything_. This has nothing to do with you, so just back off and mind your own business before I _really_ get angry."

"You have to come clean sometime, Quinn."

"What is this, the Spanish Inquisition? What do you want, a confession? If that's what's going to get you off my back, then here it is. I slept with Puck. I got pregnant. I told Finn he was the father. Now leave. Me. Alone."

"Why'd you do it, Quinn?" Rachel asked, so softly it was almost silent. "Puck's so mad and Finn's so hurt."

"So really you just wanted to corner me to make me feel bad about myself," Quinn replied, her eyes stinging with tears that she barely managed to keep from falling. "Thanks for the help, beer goggles, but I was really doing fine with that on my own."

"I just can't figure you out, Quinn. I've tried so hard to extend an olive branch in friendship, but you always stab me in the back with it."

"Maybe it's because you use overly-complicated metaphors," Quinn snapped back, realizing how lame her retort sounded. She bit her lip, for a moment trying to contain the thoughts that were racing through her head, but the dam was breaking. "Fine. You know what? All I've been trying to do is pick the lesser of two evils. Getting pregnant made me a hypocrite. Getting pregnant by someone who wasn't my boyfriend makes me a slut, too. _That's_ why lied."

Rachel was startled by Quinn's sudden outpouring of honesty. Her lips worked uselessly for a moment as she tried to find something to say in return. "You're not a slut," she said in an attempt to sound supportive.

"Yes I am. Ask anyone at school and they'll tell you," Quinn said. "There are far worse words for people like me."

"You're not a hypocrite _or_ a slut, Quinn," Rachel insisted. "You've just made some poor decisions - all of us do, sometimes. It's a part of life. You really hurt some people with your decisions, though, and I really hope everything works out."

Quinn narrowed her eyes and lowered her chin to her chest for a moment to catch her breath. She swallowed the lump in her throat before she raised her gaze again to meet Rachel's. "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop trying to be nice to me," Quinn growled. "And if you don't get that smug look off your face next time I see you, I'll claw it off myself." With that, she turned away, her curls twirling as they fell back across her shoulders.

Left alone in the parking lot, Rachel's shoulders sagged. _That could have gone better_, she thought.

****

Brittany didn't have a good chance to corner Artie and Tina until the next day at lunch. They sat alone at a table across the cafeteria from where she and Becky usually ate together; Becky was absent that day (leaving Brittany to fend for herself on a quiz), so Brittany thought she'd try following Sue's orders. She slung her backpack over her shoulder as unsuspiciously as possible as she strolled over to the table.

"Hi Artie," she said, smiling. "Hi Tina."

Artie looked up from his sandwich, hesitant. While they spent a lot of time together in glee, neither he nor Tina knew Brittany that well outside of practice. "Hi... er... Brittany."

"I never noticed you were in a wheelchair before," Brittany told him. "I like how the wheels in front sparkle and stuff."

Artie's eyebrows shot up in surprise; his glasses fell askew and he reached up to readjust them. "Really?" he asked, incredulous. "But you've pushed it for me a few times. I even ran over your foot once at rehearsal."

Brittany's mouth fell open. "No way. Did it hurt?"

"You cried a little bit."

Brittany's ponytail bobbed up and down; she nodded her head gently, thinking back to this event that she clearly didn't remember at all. "Weird."

Tina was frowning; she couldn't fathom why Brittany would wander over to their table when there were so many others where she'd be welcomed. Artie, however, was a little more accepting. "So, will you be joining us for lunch?" he asked, if only because Brittany's expression was bordering on blue-screen-of-death, and he didn't know what they'd do if her brain _completely_ shut down.

Brittany lit up at the suggestion. "You guys don't mind, do you?" she asked, setting her backpack on the floor by an empty chair. "I usually sit with my friend Becky from math class but she isn't here today."

"It's c-c-cool," Tina told her, although the look she gave Brittany said differently. She couldn't tell whether or not Brittany was flirting, and if she was... well, then, definitely _not_ cool.

Brittany reached into her bag for her brown-bagged lunch and a notebook, placing them carefully on the table in front of her. She opened her hand and brought it to her face. She'd written her mission in her palm so she wouldn't forget what she was supposed to ask, but that had been in first period and now the ink on her skin had smeared and the words were difficult to read. "So how do you guys like glee club? Do you think Mr. Schuester is treating everyone with equash... equaminous... equine-ity?"

"You mean equality?" He leaned over to see what Brittany had written on her hand; all he could make out was the word "geisha" smudged and spelled wrong on the heel of her hand.

The notebook said "10th Grade English" on the front, but when Brittany opened it, the first page was blank. She found a pen and quickly began jotting things down. "Equality! How do you spell that?" she asked.

Artie frowned. "Are you taking notes?"

"If I don't write it down, I'll forget."

"Why does it matter?"

Brittany rolled her eyes as though Artie should already know the answer. "Because Coach Sylvester wants to hear everyone's opinions."

Artie balked. "Brittany, you can't do that!"

"But she's the co-chair," Brittany replied.

"She's out to g-get glee, Brittany," Tina interrupted. "If you complain about _anything_ to her, she'll r-ruin everything for us."

Brittany's face fell. "She'll ruin everything for you and Artie?"

Tina blushed and looked away for a moment; it was up to Artie to clarify. "_Everyone_ in glee, Brittany. Even you."

Now Brittany was really concerned. Not only was Coach Sylvester out to destroy Tina and Artie, but the whole club? "But I like glee," she said, thinking out loud.

"So do w-w-we, Brittany," Tina told her. "You gotta do the r-r-right thing here. You can't tell Sue _anything_."

Dismayed, Brittany scanned the rest of the cafeteria nervously. Santana was sitting at a distant table with some of the other Cheerios and jocks from the football team; even from far away, though, she caught Brittany's eyes and locked them with a cold, hard stare.

And even though Brittany wasn't the sharpest crayon in the barrel, she knew instinctively that Santana's disapproval and disappointment would only be a fraction compared to the wrath of Sue Sylvester.


	5. Chapter 5

Puck couldn't sleep at all that night. His mind just wouldn't shut off. There were too many thoughts racing through his head, and he couldn't relax.

He tried to think of the things that used to make him feel better: throwing Kurt in the dumpster; locking Artie in a portable john; getting lucky with a cougar. These weren't really valid options anymore. He was starting to like Kurt, in spite of Kurt's superiority complex. And Artie was pretty cool, too. On the other side of the token, cougars were a lot less appealing when he couldn't rid his mind of the image of Quinn's face.

He wanted this - whatever it was he might have with Quinn, this _family_ - to work out more badly than he wanted anything else before. God, he'd even give up dip if that was what it would take.

The problem was that he didn't know how to go about it, any of it - it was all messed-up and backwards. He knew how to get sex, but how to succeed at relationships was beyond him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been in a relationship that worked... except maybe with Rachel Berry. She didn't let him touch her boobs, and they both _really_ liked other people, but other than that, they'd, like, connected, right? If he hadn't been so obviously into Quinn, then maybe he and Rachel would still be together. Ergo, using his teenage boy logic, Puck figured that Rachel Berry must know a thing or two about relationships.

Puck sighed as he tossed and turned in bed. To win Quinn over, he'd have to do something worse than give up dip - he was going to have to ask Rachel Berry for help.

His mind thus made up, Puck turned on his television and fell asleep just as regular movies were starting to play again on Cinemax.

****

He caught her in the hallway between classes the next day. When he came up to her locker, she didn't say anything. Instead she simply grabbed her books and binder for the next period and ignored him.

"Rachel," he called out. "Where are you going? I want to talk to you."

"I'm going to be late for class," she answered. "What do you want from me?"

Puck shoved his hands into his pockets and let his voice drop to a whisper. "Things are so messed up between me and Quinn right now, and I can't talk to Finn about it. I can't talk to _anyone_ about it."

Rachel clutched her binder close to her chest. "I thought you said this was none of my business," she said, unable to hide the genuine hurt in her voice.

"It isn't," Puck replied. "But that's why I thought _you'd_ be good to talk to."

Rachel perked up at the suggestion. All she really wanted to do was help, and finally someone was giving her the chance. Besides that, his logic made some sense - she could be an objective party because she _wasn't_ invested in all that was going on... right? It was flattering just to be _asked_ for once. It reminded her when Puck asked for her help in glee. When she thought back to how _nice_ he could be sometimes, she allowed herself a small smile. "Fine, I'll listen."

"Just don't get all self-righteous and screechy like you do sometimes at glee practice," Puck warned.

And just like that, her daydream deflated. "If that's what you think..." Rachel said, pouting. She meant to finish her sentence as she turned to walk away, but she was stopped when Puck rested his hand on her shoulder. He gripped more tightly than he needed to; she would have come back at the slightest touch, but here he was holding onto her like he was afraid to let just one more person abandon him.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

Rachel nodded. "So let's walk," she suggested, and he sidled up beside her as they went down the hall. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Puck drew in a deep breath, looking down at his feet as though he was nervous. "I thought when Finn found out..." he began, pausing to revise his thoughts, "I thought it would be easy from there. I was going to do the right thing, to step up and be a dad so that me and Quinn and the baby... so we could be a family."

Rachel's eyes darted across Puck's face. His voice was near breaking - was he _crying_?

"But Quinn wants to give the baby up for adoption."

Rachel, too aware of everything but the feelings of others, immediately saw the reason in Quinn's decision. "Puck, that's not a _bad_ idea," she told him. "You're both still in high school. And babies are a lot of responsibility. Maybe adoption is the best option after all."

Puck raised his head, and his eyes glinted with anger. When he spoke, his voice was tinged with bitterness. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Berry. I came to you for _help_."

"I'm just being realistic," Rachel said, defensive.

"You know what, Rachel? Forget I asked. Forget everything."

The bell rang, and Puck continued walking, leaving Rachel Berry stunned and confused and alone in the middle of the deserted hallway.

****

She'd considered not even going to glee practice that day, but it was like when she considered throwing herself down a flight of stairs when the pee-stick turned blue. It would be giving up, a show of weakness, the easy way out - and Quinn Fabray, in spite of everything, could not admit defeat. If she was going down, then she was going down swinging.

Still, the ice queen was not have prepared for the cold shoulder from _everyone_ else in the room. Mercedes and Kurt looked her over in shared silence before returning to their regularly scheduled conversation. Artie and Tina lingered in the corner, so occupied with Artie's guitar that they appeared to be actively ignoring Quinn's entrance. Santana and Brittany already occupied the back row, and Santana was clearly giving Brittany a hard time about something or other. Quinn glanced up at them hoping to catch some sort of invite, but when Santana noticed her, she rolled her eyes cruelly and laid right back into Brittany.

"But I _like_ glee club," Brittany kept muttering pitifully beneath her breath.

Quinn took a seat in the row in front of Mercedes and Kurt. She set her bag on the chair beside her, as though she were saving it for someone, and she crossed her legs as best she could, considering her "Where's everybody else?" Quinn asked, her question directed to no one in particular. It hung in the air awkwardly for a moment before Mercedes, of all people, decided to break the silence.

"There was a football meeting right after school," she explained. "They won't be here until later."

"Aren't _you_ on the football team anymore?" Quinn turned, narrowing her eyes at Kurt. The best defense was a good offense, after all. It was better to attack somebody else about something before they attacked her first.

"They lost the privilege of my company when they insisted on calling glee club 'Homo Explosion,'" Kurt replied evenly.

"It's not offensive if it's true, is it?" Quinn asked pointedly.

"Ex_cuse_ me," Mercedes interrupted. "I hope you're not trying to mess with my boy Kurt, because let me tell you, if I was a veterinarian, then I'd cut you like it was my job, bitch."

Quinn narrowed her eyes and tried to repress her hurt feelings, stone-faced. Quickly she turned back around in her seat, just in time to watch the football players and Rachel Berry enter on the heels of Mr. Schuester, who immediately started passing out new sheet music. "Okay, guys, I've rearranged some of the parts in 'Keep Holding On,' so if you could look these over..."

Mike and Mark climbed up to the back row with Brittany and Santana, while the Finn, Puck, and Rachel found seats among the other gleeks, as far as possible from Quinn.

As practice began, she could still feel the heat of their gazes, and she brought her hand to the back of her neck as though shielding herself from them.

Now, even in glee club, Quinn really was an outcast.

And it _sucked_.

_Looks like it's just you and me, kid,_ she thought, not knowing what would happen when the baby left her, too, and she was all alone for real.

****

Sometimes Will Schuester could be a little blind to the problems going on around him - he could readily admit to his ignorance regarding the "Vitamin D" the gleeks were using for their first mash-ups - but he wasn't _entirely_ clueless. Watching the way his students interacted at practice, he knew something was wrong. After an hour or so of awkward rehearsal, he let them leave. He crossed his arms and watched as they filtered out of the classroom, catching Finn by the arm before he had a chance to go anywhere.

"Finn, are you okay?" Will asked, rubbing his hand on his chin in a gesture of concern. "You haven't been yourself at all lately. The whole rest of the club seems... I don't know, _down_ about something."

Finn tried to smile, to shrug off the question, but he couldn't for long. "It's complicated, Mr. Schue," he mumbled.

"I'll try to keep up."

Finn closed his eyes, trying to think. It wasn't that he didn't trust Mr. Schue - in fact, Mr. Schue was probably the person he could most trust, with _anything_. After all, he'd been nice enough not to bust him over the marijuana he found in his locker (Finn idly suspected that Puck might have had something to do with that, in retrospect). He'd taken Finn out to eat to talk when Finn first found out about the pregnancy; Mr. Schue had even driven them to the OB/GYN. But he wasn't sure how to explain this at all - it had gotten so crazy so fast that it was still a struggle to get his mind around it all. When Finn spoke, it was an effort to keep his voice level. "It's not my baby, Mr. Schue."

Will's mouth fell open. "Finn, I'm - I'm so sorry to hear that," he offered feebly.

"Puck's the dad, not me," Finn continued. He couldn't stop himself now; it was a relief to get this off his chest at least, as painful as it was to reopen the wound. "Quinn cheated on me and was leading me on all this time."

There was a silence between the two for a minute. Will honestly didn't know what to say; he didn't know that there was anything _to_ say. Finn stifled a sob, and Will acted just as he'd done when Finn first came to him about Quinn's pregnancy - he embraced him, telling him "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

Finn let himself cry on Mr. Schue's shoulder until he didn't think he could cry any more. "Thanks for listening, Mr. Schue."

"Anytime, Finn. Just let me know if there's anything I can do."

"I don't think so," Finn replied. "But thanks. Really." He paused to wipe his nose on his sleeve before turning to leave.

Will could only shake his head in disbelief. _Since when did high school have to be so complicated?_ he thought. It was beyond him that a girl could deceive a guy like that for so long, but he tried to withhold judgment. Quinn was just a confused kid; at any rate, at least the truth won out eventually. As he put away the extra copies of music, grabbed his briefcase and shut the lights off in the music rooms, he sighed. _Well_, he thought, _at least I'll have some interesting dinner conversation with Terri tonight_.


	6. Chapter 6

At some point during the day it had started to rain - a fiercely cold late autumn drenching that had students scrambling for the buses and cars after school. It hadn't let up during glee practice, and two of the club's members found themselves waiting beneath the awning at the school's side entrance.

Brittany was leaning on one side of the entrance, her arms crossed and her backpack dangling from the crook of her elbow. She looked up at the sky as though lost in thought. There was a lot she needed to consider, after all. Mostly she needed to figure out which was worth more to her, her loyalty to the Cheerios or her new friends in New Directions. But on this dreary, gray afternoon, Brittany had a more immediate issue to worry about.

Rachel lingered just outside the doorway, waiting for her own ride and watching Brittany hesitate at the edge of the overhang. "Is something wrong?" she asked, unused to seeing Brittany's face so screwed up in contemplation.

Brittany turned to face Rachel, looking sad and contemplative. She pointed out into the parking lot; there were a few vehicles still there, mostly in the teacher's parking section, but Brittany was indicating a small sedan in the student lot all on its own. "I locked my keys in the car."

"That sucks," Rachel replied. "How are you going to get home?"

"I've just been walking all week, but I don't have an umbrella."

"You've been walking home _all week_?" Rachel asked, perplexed. "When did you lock your keys in the car?"

"Last Wednesday," Brittany said, her ponytail bobbing. "I think. Or maybe Thursday."

Rachel's eyes widened. She briefly wondered how Brittany had gotten a driver's license in the first place, but she quickly pushed that thought aside. The more important thing right now was to make sure Brittany got home safely. "One of my dads is coming to pick me up," she said. "Would you like a ride?"

"Like a piggy-back ride?" Brittany asked. She bounced on her toes, giddy with excitement.

Rachel couldn't help but smile. "Like a ride _home_," she clarified.

"Okay!" Brittany exclaimed, losing none of her enthusiasm. "Thanks, Rachel. That's really nice of you."

"He should be here in fifteen minutes or so. Practice got out earlier than I thought it would today."

"Cool." Brittany shifted her backpack strap to her shoulder and moved closer to Rachel. "You were really good at practice today."

"Thanks," Rachel said. Her smile was punctuated by a blush on her cheeks. "You're pretty good too, and if you improved your breath support, you'd be even better."

Brittany looked down at her chest, palming her bosom unabashedly.

"Not... not that. _Breath_ support."

Brittany's lips formed a small _o_ of surprise, and she let her hands fall to her waist. "Thanks for your help, Rachel," Brittany smiled. "And the ride, and everything. Let me know if you ever need help with your homework."

"It's no problem," Rachel replied, just as a car pulled up to the awning. "Shall we go?"

"Yes?" Brittany asked. With that, Rachel hooked her arm into the cheerleader's as she led the way.

****

It was a challenge getting the door to his apartment open when his arms were laden with take-out, but somehow Will managed. "Hey honey," he called out, stepping inside and letting the door shut behind him. "I brought home dinner. Mexican."

"Mexican?" Terri's voice came shrilly from the kitchen. "Will, you _know_ I've been getting such horrible heartburn lately," she harped. She met him in the dining room, drying her hands on a dish towel that she then tossed over her shoulder. When she saw Will's face, worn and weary, though, she quickly changed her tune. "But thank you," she added. "I just hope you got regular rice, and not the spicy kind." She took one of the bags from Will and led him into the kitchen.

"Did you go to the dermatologist about the rash on your belly?" Will asked, setting his take-out bag on the counter as Terri began gathering their place settings. "That was today, wasn't it?" Terri hadn't let him touch her for _days_, complaining about a reaction to the cocoa butter his mother had sent her to help prevent stretch marks. He was starting to get peevish about it, especially since she'd been fussing about it for weeks now and had only gone to the doctor on his insistence.

"He won't give me anything to help clear it up, since I'm pregnant," Terri explained, "but he said it would go away on its own in a few weeks." They quickly helped themselves to their meals and carried their own plates into the dining room, where they took their usual seats at opposite sides of the table.

"That's.... great," Will replied as he sat down. "So it shouldn't be long before I get to feel our daughter kick, then?"

Terri took longer than usual to chew her food, but Will didn't seem to notice before continuing. "Oh, you wouldn't believe what I learned at school today."

"Please don't tell me it's more of that singing and dancing drama," Terri replied, rolling her eyes. "If I have to hear any more about that Rachel girl storming off again..."

"It's not about Rachel," Will interjected. "It's about Quinn, and Finn, and the baby."

Terri's face fell. "Is everything all right?" she asked, obviously concerned. Moments like these reminded Will that his wife was actually human; sometimes she could be overcome with worry about others. It was refreshing, and it reminded him of why he'd fallen for her in the first place. He'd noticed she took a particular interest in Quinn and her troubles, probably because Terri saw a lot of herself in Quinn. "Is the baby okay?"

"The baby's fine... I think," Will replied. "That's not the issue. The issue is that Finn - the boyfriend - he told me today that he's not the father."

"Finn's not the father?" Terri's fork fell to her plate. "Well then, who is?"

"It's another kid in New Directions - Puck. Noah Puckerman, I mean."

"Oh, oh, oh," Terri started. "Oh no. I mean, oh _my_."

"It's just... the whole thing has gotten _so_ complicated. I can't help but feel bad for all of them." Will set his forkful of chimichanga down, letting himself stroke his chin in thought. "I can't believe she'd keep up a lie like that, though, knowing how many people were bound to get hurt by it. I mean, why not just come clean in the first place, right? It's a lot worse now than it would have been then."

Terri mulled over Will's words silently. She considered her next words very carefully as she reached for her glass, taking a sip and washing down the (spicy) rice she'd just been eating. Finally, she asked, "She's still planning to give the baby up for adoption, right?"

"I think _she_ is, but I don't know how Puck would feel about that," Will replied, uncertain. "Are you okay, Terri? You're being awfully quiet."

"It's just... it's just so much more interesting than what's going on at Sheets 'N Things, is all," Terri said. "And the heartburn," she added, putting her palm on her throat for emphasis.

"Speaking of Sheets 'N Things, has Howard Bamboo come back to work yet?" Will asked.

"You know, I haven't seen him," Terri replied. "I think he requested a new schedule that doesn't overlap with mine."

"Well, you did help him make the FBI's watch list."

"_And_ the six o'clock news," Terri continued. "He should _thank_ me; now he's a local celebrity. People recognize him in the store all the time now."

Will wanted to say something, but he thought the better of it and shoveled another helping of chimichanga into his mouth. Sometimes, with Terri, it was better just to let things be.

****

After another long, weird day at school, Quinn found herself looking forward to her long, weird afternoon at home. Her mother had just gotten Quinn's gown for the chastity ball back from the tailor, and she wanted Quinn to try it on. As Quinn walked to her car in the parking lot, she idly let her hand follow the slight convex curve of her stomach, wondering about the width of her waist. When she opened the driver's side door to her car, she tossed her books over into the passenger seat, which elicited a cry of pain and surprise from inside.

"Oh! Watch what you're doing!" Terri Schuester screeched. "You could take an eye out like that! You want your baby's mother to be half-blind?"

"Mrs. Schuester!" Quinn jumped, shocked. "You nearly gave me a heart attack! What are you doing here? How do you even get in? I could have sworn I had locked it."

"Quinn, there's something we need to discuss," Terri replied. "Get in the car."

Quinn furrowed her eyebrows, unsure, but she complied anyway, slamming the car door shut behind her as she settled into her seat.

"You haven't been entirely honest about your situation with me, have you?" Terri asked.

"What are you talking about?"

Terri cocked her head in an expression of faux-sympathy, the tone in her voice concerned yet condescending. "Finn's not the father, is he?"

"Who told you?" Quinn shot back.

"Never mind that," Terri said, brushing the question aside with a wave of her hand. "What I need to know is... well... the father isn't _black_, is he?"

"No, he's...." Quinn said, startled, "Jewish."

"How Jewish does he look, on a scale from one to ten?" Terri pressed on. "One being regular and ten being Woody Allen."

Quinn was boggled. She couldn't get her head around Mrs. Schuester's line of questioning. "What?" she asked lamely. _This must be what Brittany feels like all the time._

"Listen, Quinn - I need my husband to believe this is _his_ baby. And, as I told you before, there can't be any baby-daddy drama about this. This kid - Puck, is it? - he's not giving you a hard time, is he?"

"He's not," Quinn stated, finally. "He's not."

Terri smiled, satisfied. "Okay, then. That's all I needed to know." She unceremoniously shoved Quinn's belongings from her lap and left the teenager alone in her car, where she stared blankly above her steering wheel, struggling to get her head around everything that had unraveled in the past few days. She sighed and finished her sentence a million different ways in her head. _He's not going to agree about adoption. He's not going to give her up. He's_ not_ going to let that happen._


	7. Chapter 7

Rachel got to school extra early the next day - she didn't know where Brittany's locker was, and she wanted to try to catch her before class started. She wandered through the hallway purposefully, performing a visual scan for Cheerios uniforms each time she turned the corner. Finally she found the right cheerleader, just a few minutes before the bell was going to ring.

"Hey Brittany!" she called as she power-walked down the hallway.

"Oh, hey Rachel." Brittany shut her locker quickly, trying not to slam it. A few chirps echoed from inside.

Rachel's eyes widened in disbelief as she came to a halt. "Was that... is there a bird in your locker?"

Brittany nodded solemnly. "His name is Pedro."

Rachel wasn't sure how to respond to that. "Okay," she said, her eyes wandering as she struggled to remember just why she came to find Brittany in the first place. "Oh, right," she said brightly, remembering. "I wanted to know if you'd need a ride home today. If I know early in the day, I can call my dads during lunch, so that way at least one of them could be here on time, and..."

"You talk too much," Brittany interrupted. "And, actually my mom found the spare key to my car, so..."

"Cool," Rachel replied, trying to hide her disappointment. Brittany was the closest thing she had to a friend in glee club, besides Finn, who was understandably a little standoffish lately. Rachel could feel a blush rise to her face, and she tried to hide it by smiling even more widely. It wasn't a good strategy, as it made her cheeks ache when she spoke. "I guess I'll see you at practice." She quickly turned to make her hasty retreat, but she was stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

"Thanks for the ride last night, though," Brittany told her.

"It was no problem, really," Rachel said over her shoulder.

Brittany smiled in reply, but she tilted her head and became serious for a moment. "Um - you won't tell anyone about Pedro, will you?"

Rachel shook her head. "Pedro will be our secret," she said over the clang-clang-clang of the first bell.

****

In most of his classes, Finn had to sit in the back of the room. He didn't mind this, for the most part, and he knew that being so tall could keep other kids from seeing the board, so he didn't want to be in the way or anything. Besides that, the back of the class could be a lot more fun than sitting in the front, depending on who you were sitting with.

"Hey, we cool yet?"

Finn _used to_ look forward to having geometry with Puck. They would bullshit together all period, throwing spitballs and drawing anatomically correct figures in the margins of their textbooks. Lately, though, the class had become less a blessing and more a curse, and he had to focus all of his attention on math (of all things) in order to distract himself from Puck's mere presence. This wasn't the first time Puck had tried to engage him, but today Finn's threshold was especially low. "No," he said simply, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Man, it's been, like, a week already. Get over it."

"Get over it? Get _over_ it?" Finn repeated. "You slept with my girlfriend, you _knocked her up_, you asshole, and then you both lied to me about it. For _months_."

That wasn't exactly what he was angry about, though. It was _part_ of it, certainly, but there was more to it that he didn't know how to express. In the time that they let him believe he was going to be a father, something had happened to him that he couldn't explain. He was scared, sure (who wouldn't be, in his position?) but he was also looking forward to it. There was going to be a little person in the world who was a part of him, a little girl who'd maybe have his eyes or his hair or his nose. Even if Quinn was going to give the baby away, he thought at least he'd have the chance to meet her, to hold her, to call her Drizzle when out of Quinn's earshot.

Puck snorted in reply. "You were the one stupid enough to believe that bullshit hot tub story."

Finn turned towards him, so angry his face was burning up. "If you don't shut up right now I'm going to punch your face off."

"Dude. Seriously. You should be thanking me. It's not your _problem_ anymore."

Something in Finn snapped at that instant. His hand became a fist; his arm became a cannon. Before he could realize what he was doing, he was hitting Puck in the face, the small prickly hairs on his jaw scratching the skin of his knuckles.

****

By the end of the school day, news about the classroom brawl had spread. When the other gleeks arrived in the music room, they found it deserted. Mr. Schue was in the principal's office with Finn and Puck, which left most of the other New Directions members on their own. They were less focused on practicing, however, and more concerned about gossiping.

"He just started punching him - like, really wailing on him, and stuff," Matt reported. "It was really weird, like one second the class was all quiet and boring and then the next - _wham_," he said, slamming his hands on the piano for emphasis.

"They're probably both going to be suspended," Mike added. "From school. From football."

"From g-g-glee?" Tina asked, despairing.

"They'll have to let them back on before sectionals, right?" Artie looked upwards at his teammates, hoping to find something reassuring to focus on. "I mean, it's still a few weeks away, so they could feasibly be back in time... don't you think?"

"Maybe we could find two new members by then," Mercedes suggested.

"What are the odds we'd be able to find not one but _two_ more bottom-feeders, Mercedes?" Kurt replied.

"Maybe Becky would like to join," Brittany mused out loud. "But probably not. She's _so_ cool."

"This is _totally_ Quinn's fault," Santana interjected. "She's responsible for this whole mess."

"Hey, where _is_ Quinn?" Rachel asked. "She looked really out of it in class today."

"Probably heard about the fight or something," Matt figured.

"This was _before_ the fight," Rachel clarified. "Her clothes were wrinkled. Her hair wasn't done. I thought it was unusual, since she's normally so fastidious about her appearance."

"Now that you mention it," Kurt interjected, "I don't think she was even wearing makeup."

"Maybe it's because she was sleeping in her car," Brittany suggested. The group collectively turned towards her, mouth agape, hoping for more information. With all eyes on her, Brittany looked down at the piano and tapped her fingers nervously as she attempted to explain. "My mom dropped me off in the parking lot so I could go to my car. She was parked next to mine, all curled up in the backseat."

"When was this?" Artie asked.

"Maybe, like, seven-thirty this morning," Brittany answered.

Silence fell among them for a moment; they were all thinking the same thing, and it was Mercedes who finally said something. "Brittany, I think you need to tell an adult, like Mr. Schue."

"Or Miss Pillsbury," Rachel added. "Maybe she has a pamphlet for this kind of thing."

They all nodded seriously, and Brittany was a little freaked out by the sudden sense of responsibility she had to shoulder.

When the time allotted for rehearsals was nearly over, and Mr. Schue hadn't returned, the gleeks decided that it was time to go home. Brittany lingered a little longer than the others, hoping that an adult would come to her, but when that didn't happen, she knew she had to go find one.

****

Brittany hesitated. The door to Sue Sylvester's office was slightly ajar, and she could hear the television replaying the '08 national cheerleading competition, so she knew the coach was inside. Still, she'd never gone in before without being invited, and she still hadn't figured out exactly what she was going to say. She should have been taking notes when they had been talking over the piano.

"Well, Barbie, are you going to come in or what?" a voice called from inside. Brittany snapped to attention and entered, a little nervous, unsure whether she should correct Sue by saying "My name's actually Brittany." But the image of Sue behind her desk, curling weights with one hand and holding a protein shake in the other, made her too frightened to speak. "Have a seat. Tell me what's up. Please tell me it has to do with the destruction of that insipid little singing group."

"I don't know what that is," Brittany mumbled, losing track of her train of thought. "Do you mean the Jonas Brothers?"

Sue Sylvester ignored her question, pressing on. "If I'm not mistaken, Brittany, you and Rachel Berry were chatting earlier in the hallway today."

Brittany's face fell. This suddenly felt like an ambush - did she walk into a trap? "Is this about the bird?" she asked, panicking. "Because I can do something about the bird."

Sue ignored her; she had a more important question of her own. She set down her weight and her shake and leaned forward. "Are you and Berry _friends_, Brittany?"

Brittany sank back into her seat, relieved. She shrugged. "I guess."

"Good," Sue nodded, picking up the weight with the other hand and resuming her curls. "That's good. You _should_ be friends with her. That could be... beneficial."

"Isn't that dog food?" Brittany asked, tilting her head.

"Don't worry about it," Sue told her. "Now, why did you drop by?"

"Oh - I forgot," Brittany sputtered.

She didn't remember until she got to the parking lot. Quinn's car was still parked next to hers.


End file.
